The Violet Hour
by J.Wolfe
Summary: Stiles is magic. Sterek is endgame. Shenanigans. No one is dead. Yet.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****Erica and Boyd did not die because the Alpha Pack was dumb and just straight up attacked and shit. There was still the Darach and the Nogitsune and the dead pool and Kate and Peter shit, but Allison didn't die because they had extra help with the Oni and they haven't found Malia yet because the sheriff has been too focused on all these teenagers running around to look into old cases. Also, no Liam because I have too many characters to deal with as is.**

**Alrighty! Write me notes because it helps me stay productive and making better stories! :)**

**Hope you like it :D**

* * *

><p>"What's in a name?" he reads aloud. "That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

"Do you guys really have to do that here?" Derek asks as he descends the steps in his loft. Why he ever gave his teenage pack members the code to the door, he'll never know.

"Where else are we going to do it?" Erica snarks. Derek though her sass was humorous back when he was her Alpha, but being on the receiving end is nowhere near as fun. "All the other kids have taken the good spots around the school and my mom won't let us practice at my house because she hates Shakespeare."

"Why can't you go to Stiles house?" he snipes back.

The two loft invading teens roll their eyes in synchronicity. "My dad only lets me leave the house for school and pack stuff at your loft because he knows it's important. And I need to get out of my house sometimes, Derek! We can't all be homebodies like you!"

"I'm not a homebody," Derek contests solemnly.

"Hey, Derek," Boyd calls as he, Isaac and Scott enter the loft. "The three of us are going on a run. You wanna come?"

"No thanks," the eldest werewolf chides. Stiles smirks, calling him out. "Fine. Actually," he turns back to the trio at his door, "I will join you." He puts his book down on the counter and goes to put on some running shorts.

"What are you guys doing?" Scott asks as he walks over to join his best friend and Erica.

"Just practicing for our drama presentation," Stiles answers.

"But soft!" Erica chides ironically loudly. "What light through yonder window breaks?"

"Nice," Scott laughs

"Kinda weird though, don't you think?" Boyd asks.

"What?" Isaac questions with a confused raise of an eyebrow.

"Erica is Romeo," Derek says as he descends the stairs again in his running shorts and tennis shoes. No shirt though. _Fucking werewolves and their hatred of clothing_, Stiles thinks to himself.

"But..." Scott starts putting the pieces together. "That would make Stiles..."

"Juliet," Derek finishes for him. "It's probably a good choice on their part. Stiles makes a better damsel in distress," he snarks, giving his self-impressed smirk that makes the human teen just want to slap him in the face.

"It wasn't my idea," Stiles retorts indignantly. "There was a list of options for how to change your play excerpt for performance and this one was the least work," he pouts.

"Plus, Erica's probably too heavy to stand on the balcony," Isaac adds rudely. Boyd punches his friend so hard he flies into the adjacent wall six feet away.

Erica smirks at her boyfriend and returns happily to her reading, "It is the east, and Julius is the sun. Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon!"

Stiles makes fleeting eye contact with the sourwolf as the four leave the loft, but returns his eyes quickly to the book in hand.

* * *

><p>When the guys get back from their run, Erica is playing idly with Stiles hair as she sits on the couch behind him and they watch some reality TV show on the giant LCD Stiles insisted Derek buy for the mandatory pack meetings sleepovers. "You guys stink," Erica says flatly, pinching her nose and waving at the air in front of her face. Boyd walks over and rubs his face at her neck in play retaliation.

"Ugh," Stiles retches. "Even I think you guys reek. What did you run into some were-skunks?" Scott smirks at him, but the Isaac just waves him off and Derek gets his typical dealing-with-Stiles jaw clench. "Seriously, though, you guys need to shower," he remarks.

"Whatever," Scott chides. "I'm headed home anyway. Did you still want to work on our history project Isaac?"

The taller Beta's ears perk and he nods, "Lemme just grab a shirt real quick."

"We should go too, babe," Erica tells Boyd. "We've got reservations at 7." He just nods to her and gives her a hand up off the couch. "Don't forget your costume stuff for class tomorrow, Stiles!" she calls over her shoulder as they slink out of the loft. He nods back his response, still kind of paying more attention to the bickering housewives on the screen.

"Alright," Isaac calls on his way down the stairs. "I'll probably be home around 11 Derek! I'll text you if I'm sleeping at Scott's!" The pair of Betas wave as they head out the door and Stiles absent-mindedly waves back.

After another ten minutes of done up middle aged women discussing their rigorous beauty routines and party planning, Derek walks out of the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his still wet body.

"What are you still doing here?" he asks with that typical sourwolf tone.

"Huh," Stiles replies dumbly, turning from the TV. Momentarily distracted by the sight of a mostly naked, dripping wet, muscle-wolf, he shakes his head before he continues snarkily, "I'm watching TV." He point to the device on the wall with a 'duh' face.

"I can see that," Derek grits out indignantly. "But you're the only one still here. Why don't you go watch TV at your house?"

"Because your TV is bigger," Stiles shrugs like this is the dumbest line of questions ever. Because, really, it is. Derek sighs a great, put-upon sigh of frustration and walks over to the teen sitting on his floor, hoisting him up by the armpits and pushing him toward the door. "Hey!" Stiles shouts as he's manhandled. "What the hell?!"

"Go home, Stiles," Derek sighs commandingly. How is it even possible to make a sigh commanding? Derek Hale: enigma.

Stiles shrugs, gripping the bag of chips he'd filched from Derek's pantry, as he backs out the door.

"Good night," Derek says roughly as Stiles crosses the threshold and he grips the sliding door.

"Good night!" Stiles barks. "Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night 'til it be morrow!" Derek just shakes his head and rolls the door quickly shut.


	2. Chapter 2

The night is pretty uneventful. Stiles packs all of his costume stuff for drama class into his backpack. It's mostly just a bunch of silky white and lavender fabrics with some gold bands that hold it all together and a circlet for his head.

After that, he makes dinner and puts a plate in the microwave for his dad since he's apparently working late tonight. He goes upstairs and plops down in front of his computer, scrolling some of the supernatural chat pages and forums to avoid doing his chemistry homework.

One of the chat rooms, "arcanists anonymous," usually has some particularly good stuff on spells. But, unless you really know what they're talking about, it's pretty hard to decipher. Stiles has tried to get Deaton to fill him in on the whole magic thing, but all he's done thus far is give Stiles mountain ash powder and some wooden beads. And no explanations. That guy. So confusing. He and Derek should form a band: the Enigma Brothers.

Anyway, he's on the AA webpage when he suddenly gets a private message:

**cdwen9x9**: you're new

**Red24**: yes... ?

**cdwen9x9**: do you cast?

**Red24**: no?

**cdwen9x9**: do you want to?

This is getting ridiculous, Stiles thinks. This is probably just one of those pieces of code that draws you to some website where they sell fake magic books and crystals. He ignores the messages and keeps scrolling through the nearly indecipherable ramblings of hundreds of modern witches. Five minutes later, the private chat box pings again.

**cdwen9x9**: check your windowsill

"What?" Stiles huffs in confusion. He looks over at his window. Nothing seems different. He walks over and unlatches the lock. He slides the window up slowly, and, lo and behold, a small leather bundle has appeared. "The fuck?" he breathes, leaning out of his window to look around. But, no one's there.

He takes the bundle, slams his window shut, latching it again and laying a mountain ash line across it, and gets back in front of his computer. He types as quickly as is humanly possible:

**Red24**: What the hell is this?!

He waits five minutes but there's no response.

**Red24**: ANSWER ME

**cdwen9x9 has logged off**.

"Goddammit," Stiles huffs indignantly. He runs his hands through his hair, stopping when his eyes fall on the small leather bundle. He's locked in a staring contest with it for a solid minute. It finally wins and he grabs it, fumbling to quickly undo the straps binding it shut.

After a prolonged struggle, the intricate knots are undone and he uses his forearm to wipe the papers and various school supplies off one side of his desk onto the floor. He places the loose bundle in the center of his desk and just looks at it again for a bit.

It's that weird state of anticipation, where you're not sure what's going to happen but you feel like _**something**_ is going to happen, and it's going to be important. He takes a really deep breath and delicately folds back the flaps to reveal...

A bunch of random herbs and a string of wooden beads that look pretty similar to the ones Deaton gave him. Underneath all of that though, he sees a scrap of paper. He pulls out what looks like a centuries old grocery list. Except there isn't even writing on it. Just a bunch of horizontal lines with tick marks on them.

"Great," he sighs, dropping the paper and leaning back in his chair. Another mystery. Fan-fucking-tastic. Has he mentioned yet how much he hates mysteries? Because he does. He hates 'em. Mysteries, enigmas, vagaries, ambiguities, secrets. All of it.

He sits up with an epiphany. This must've been Deaton. He's slowly giving Stiles the tools for his magic. And that means that one of Deaton's books will give him an idea of what all of this is.

A noise downstairs distracts him. The door closes and he hears keys rattling as they're deposited in the hook by the door. "Stiles?" he calls, clearly having seen the light coming from the top of the stairs. The teen checks the clock in his nightstand, realizing it's already 2 in the morning.

Stiles goes out in the hall so they can see each other. "Yeah?" he responds.

"Why are you still awake?" the sheriff interrogates mildly.

"I was... Doing research?" He supplies hopefully.

His father gives a great, put upon sigh. He and Derek should form a band where they just sigh exasperatedly at Stiles. They could make some killer harmonies. "School or Pack?" the sheriff inquires.

"School," Stiles blurts perhaps a bit too quickly. His dad knows about the supernatural stuff, but he doesn't know his son is trying to learn magic. And Stiles would like to keep it that way. Besides, no need making his dad think there's some new monster of the week, since there hasn't been for a while now.

His dad sighs again. "Alright," he sounds exhausted. "Get some sleep. It's a school night."

"Aye-aye, sheriff," Stiles salutes, heading to the bathroom to clean up before sinking into his wonderfully comfortable mattress.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles stretches lazily as he comes to from sleep. Yawning as he looks over toward his window, he notes the brightness outside and turns his head so quickly toward the alarm clock he might have whiplash. 8:10am: he's definitely going to be late.

He literally jumps out of bed and into a pair of pants, pulls a soft hoodie quickly over his head and grabs his backpack, bolting out of his room. He runs right back in to grab his forgotten phone and thanks god that he packed his costume last night otherwise Erica would've killed him. Literally. With her werewolf claws.

He shoots Scott a text to cover for him in home room as he shoves the majority of a muffin into his mouth and starts the Jeep.

So he broke like 17 traffic laws in an attempt to get to school on time, that doesn't mean they need to pull him over. "Stiles," the deputy says as he approaches the Jeep's driver side window.

"Parrish!" Stiles greets. "Hey, buddy! What's up? I was just trying to get to school on time. Can you just give me a break this one time?" He smiles with all his teeth and all the sincerity he can muster.

Parrish laughs quietly to himself, but scribbles on his ticket book and rips off a sheet. "Don't tell your dad," he smiles.

Stiles shakes his head in confusion and looks at the ticket he was just handed while Parrish turns to go back to his squad car. In big letters, the ticket reads, "YOU OWE ME ONE."

"Thanks, dude!" Stiles yells out the window as he slams on the acceleration and heads towards the school. It's nice that Parrish is in the supernatural loop now, Stiles thinks.

"Mr. Stilinski," the portly old history teacher drawls as Stiles tries to sneak quietly into the classroom. Stiles freezes, chancing a quick glance at Scott, who just gives him a wide-eyed '_what took you so long?_' look. "I was beginning to think you fell in. Are you sure you don't need to see the nurse?"

The class quietly snickers at him. As per usual. He just rolls with it, shrugging, "Nah. Unless she owns that new taco place on Grand, in which case I have a few choice words for her." He nods, chuckling a little to himself as he takes the open seat near the back of the room and the rest of the class just shake their heads at him.

"Dude," Stiles starts as he meets up with Scott in the hall before lunch. "Weirdest shit happened last night." Scott makes eye contact and they continue toward the cafeteria. "So, in sitting at my desk researching, ya know, _our_ kind of stuff, when this random person starts messaging me about whether or not I do, ya know, Deaton's kind of _stuff_. And then they tell me to check outside my window and there's this little like, pouch thing. And I open it and it's got herbs and this old piece of paper and I'm like, what the fu- Hey Ms. Peterson," he waves as they walk by the teacher. He brings his voice back down as they enter the cafeteria. "I'm pretty sure it was Deaton."

"Yeah, cool," Scott says, looking off into the distance and clearly not paying attention to his best friend's current situation.

"Scott," he says, but the teen wolf doesn't respond. "Scott, are you even listening?"

"Yeah, of course," he shrugs. "What do you think they're laughing about?" he asks, pointing across the lunchroom with his chin.

Stiles follows Scott's line of sight and sees Allison and Kira giggling about something quietly at the normal Pack table. "I don't know. You're the one with bat ears." Scott gives a quick leer. "Sorry, wolf ears."

"It's too loud in here and they're whispering," Scott laments.

"So what?" Stiles shrugs. "They're both in the pack. Besides, you and Isaac hang out all the time." Scott tenses. "They can be friends if they want, Scott," he pats his friend on the back and grabs an apple to put in his tray before heading over to the table. "'Sup guys?" Stiles greets.

The group nods in return. With no bump in the night baddies around for the last couple weeks, there's not much focus to the lunch conversations and everyone just discusses homecoming and what not. Stiles has more or less decided to go stag this year, since literally everyone else in the group are paired up and if someone not in the know was his date, things could seriously weird really fast if there's a creature feature situation. He could always ask Danny, since he's in the know and not currently in a relationship, but Stiles isn't sure how he feels about coming out. He's not even sure he likes dudes. It's just kind of a thing he's not really put a lot of thought into. What with the murderous monsters and humans alike that he's had to deal with the last two years.

"Stiles," Lydia says with a snap of her fingers in front of his face, clearly not the first time she said his name. He snaps his attention to her. "The bell rang. Come on, walk me to AP Psych."

"Right," he says, grabbing their trays and depositing them at the receptacle by the door on their way out.


	4. Chapter 4

"Come _on_, Stiles," Erica pouts angrily outside the boys' bathroom. "I'm sure you look fine and we have to go perform for the class."

"Ugh," he whines indignantly as he bursts through the door in his white and pale violet flowing drapes. "Laugh and I will kill you," he points threateningly. "Don't think I can't," he reminds as she stifles a giggle.

The short walk down the hall is, thank god, witnessed only by a few freshmen, easily death glared into silence.

"We're ready," Erica calls as they come through the door into the drama class. A few of the boys choke down chuckles at Stiles' get up, but most of the drama girls give approving nods. Stiles blushes as they begin reciting their scene.

* * *

><p>"<em>No<em>," Stiles hisses at her. Erica just elbows him, hard, in the ribs.

"We would _love_ that, Ms. Triveni," Erica coos and the teacher smiles and walks away. She turns to her partner and chides, "This will be good for you."

"_**What**_?!" he remarks. "How will getting on stage and performing an entire play as the _**female**_ lead be good for me?"

Erica scoffs. "You should have smelled the arousal in here. From the girls. And Josh. Directed _at you_. I don't understand why, but apparently you look hot in that outfit," she shrugs and heads out of the room.

"How is this my life?" he laments to the ceiling as the second bell rings and he's already late for his last class of the day. "Shit."

He books it down the hallway, wispy trails flowing out behind him mockingly. He mumbles his hate for drama as he enters AP Calculus and everyone looks at him like he's grown an extra head.

"Mr. Stilinski," the teacher calmly chastises, making Stiles wonder what the record for most teachers reprimanding a single student in a day is. He's pretty sure he'd win that one. Mr. Rainer just gestures to Stiles clothes in question.

"I got out of drama class late. No time to change," he explains with a shrug.

"Fine," the teacher accepts. "Sit in the back."

* * *

><p>"Quite the fashion statement," Lydia remarks as they get out of calc and walk to their lockers. Stiles just sighs, his mostly exposed shoulders sagging. "Really," she nods, "can I have it, we're about the same size."<p>

"Sorry, Lyds," he says stopping next to the bathroom near their lockers. She gives him a confused expression, so he explains begrudgingly, "Apparently I've been drafted to be one of the leads in this semester's play. We're doing Romea and Julius. The entire thing. In front of the entire school."

"Go you," she congratulates proudly. He makes a shocked face of betrayal and she shrugs him off. "What? It's gonna look great on college applications and since I'm going to beat you for valedictorian, you're gonna need it," she winks. He goes to open the door, but both of their phones vibrate. He knows it's a Pack text and his phone's in his jeans in his backpack, so he just waits for Lydia to tell him. "How long does it take you to change?" she asks.

"Like fifteen minutes: this thing's complicated," he looks up at her consoling face. "No," he starts.

"I'm really sorry," she says.

"Seriously, no," he pleas, pushing into the bathroom.

She grabs his arm. "Derek says now. You need to drive me to his place. Jackson's already out at the preserve."

"Come on!" Stiles laments as the petite strawberry blonde drags him toward the parking lot.

* * *

><p>They arrive at the old Hale house and park alongside the other cars. They're the last ones there and Stiles can see movement through the gaps in the boards on the front windows. "I'm just gonna change and then come in," he suggests, reaching for his backpack.<p>

Lydia smacks his hand. "Come on, you big baby. I can guarantee you won't _die_ of embarrassment," she winks. She's getting better at making banshee jokes. He groans again at the sheer ridiculous torture that is his life before hopping out of the Jeep and walking toward the burnt shell of what was once a home.

"You're late," Derek says, turning and then freezing at the sight.

"Yep," Stiles throws his hands up. "Yuck it up, asshats. But isn't there some big emergency that was so time sensitive it kept me from changing my clothes?"

Some of the Betas have confused expressions, but Derek clears his throat and answers, "Trolls."

* * *

><p>"I swear to god!" Stiles yells as he's hurling mountain ash powder to get the trolls all turned around. "If I stain this thing, I'm gonna be <strong>so<strong> pissed!"

"I thought you hated it!" Erica called from where she was dodging flying tree trunks.

"It still took me eight hours to make!" he shouts back. Across the bloody field of battle, werewolves, a huntress, and a banshee smirk with various degrees of humor.


	5. Chapter 5

"Stiles," the sheriff says confused as the teen comes through the front door. "What are you wearing?"

"Such. A long. Story," he says dramatically. "Drama class. Juliet. Semester play. Lydia. Trolls. I'm going to bed." He waves to his dad and ascends the steps.

"We're discussing this in the morning!" Sheriff Stilinski calls after him.

Stiles doesn't even bother responding as he drops his backpack on the floor of his dark room and flops on his comfy bed. He sighs contentedly and aims to drift straight to sleep.

But, then there's a tapping sound at his window so he glances over. And almost has a heart attack when a pair of glowing red eyes greet him. Recovering his breath, he gets off his bed, closes his door quietly, and opens the window. "No," he states blankly at the creepy creeper outside.

"I didn't even say-"

"No," Stiles repeats. "I'm tired- No, I'm _exhausted_, and I'm going to bed."

"I kn-" Derek tries to climb in past him, but is stopped by the mountain ash line on the sill. He makes a scowly face at the dark powder like that will compel it to break.

"So, now that we've established you're not coming in, I'm going to bed." He puts a hand on the window handle, but Derek gives him this look. Wait... Stiles knows that look. But Derek can't... No... No. "Are you _actually_ trying to use puppy dog eyes on me?" he asks indignantly. Derek's face regresses to near blank constipation. "Because you weren't pulling it off." Now he looks offended and Stiles kinda feels like a dick. "Ugh, okay. Say what it is you came to say and then let me sleep."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Derek supplies softly, if not with a tinge of bitterness.

"I'm fine," Stiles replies immediately. "Why? Do I smell injured?" He looks around his body and pulls at the fabric of his costume to make sure he's not bleeding anywhere.

"No," Derek shakes his head. "You just, uh. You..."

"Oh my god, Derek, spit it out," Stiles barks quietly, mindful that his dad is still just downstairs and he's already going to interrogate Stiles for his get up and the word 'trolls' in the morning.

Derek snarls, but Stiles glances at the barrier on the sill and then gives him an unimpressed smirk. The Alpha composes himself and gets back to what he was saying. "You smelled _off_ earlier."

"Oh," Stiles scoffs. "That was probably the roiling pit of embarrassment that was my life today." He pulls on the fabric of the outfit near his thighs to emphasize.

"Right," Derek agrees. "Okay."

"Anything else?" Stiles asks dismissively.

"Um, no. Nothing at the moment. Just, uh..."

"Okay, you've gotta stop this whole ellipses routine. I'm too tired for it."

"Nevermind," Derek growls angrily. "Sleep well," he dismisses sourly as he vaults off the roof.

"Whatever, sourwolf," Stiles sighs loud enough that he knows he's been heard. He closes his window and falls asleep in seconds.

* * *

><p>"Get up, kiddo," the sheriff commands as he shakes Stiles shoulder.<p>

The rest weary teen glances at his clock to that it's only 6:30. "Ugh, dad, have you turned evil all of a sudden?" he slurs, pulling a pillow over his head to shield him from the sunlight coming in through the window.

"You owe me an explanation," the older man continues. "Why are there trolls and why are you dressed like one of those Lords of the Kings characters?"

Stiles rips the pillow off his face in shocked offense. "_Lord_ of the _Rings, _Dad," he berates. His dad just gives him a stern look of 'not the point' and Stiles sighs. "There are trolls because... I don't know. There are just trolls. But we took care of them." The sheriff looks impressed, but Stiles waves it off as a not big deal. "I'm dressed like this because of the project I was doing with Erica for drama class. We were doing Romeo and Juliet. But with the genders swapped." Sheriff Stilinski takes in a breath but still looks confused. "Things happened kind of fast and I didn't have time to change."

"Okay," the sheriff says. "We'll call that good for now. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't been turned into some magical elf or something."

"Ha," Stiles laughs perhaps a bit on the fake side. "Magic?" He shakes his head. "No such thing, Dad." He waves at it like the idea is an annoying fly. The sheriff gets a funny look like he thinks his son may have actually gone insane, but waves it off.

"Maybe not," the sheriff says as he walks into the hall. "But there's no such thing as werewolves or trolls either!" he calls on his way out.

Stiles flops back down and passes out for another hour and a half.

* * *

><p>"Aw," Isaac coos when Stiles approaches him and Scott at school the next morning. "What happened to your fancy outfit?"<p>

"Can it, Lahey," the non-wolf teen says with as much disdain as he can muster.

The curly haired wolf revels in the animosity. "But this is my favorite past time," he smirks.

"These violent delights have violent ends, Mr. Lahey," Ms. Triveni smiles from behind them. Isaac smiles weakly at her in a sort of apology. "I don't suppose I could count on you to try out for the semester play?" She asks politely, holding out a small flyer announcing Romea and Julius as the fall play and audition times.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever," Isaac responds, taking the flyer.

"And you, Mr. McCall?" Scott nods and takes a flyer as well.

"God, she's weird," Isaac sighs when she's out of earshot. He crumples up the paper and tosses it in the trash.


	6. Chapter 6

The school day is pretty uneventful, though there is some discussion of trolls at lunch. Lydia thinks they were drawn by the Nemeton's being reinvigorated. Allison contends that they may have been drawn by the growing Hale pack or by Scott developing Alpha status. Stiles proposes no ideas but suggests that they discuss something else since they killed half of the trolls and sent the rest running for the hills.

* * *

><p>After school, Stiles heads to Deaton's clinic. He'd packed the bundle with him that morning and intended to confront the overly cryptic vet. "Deaton?" Stiles calls upon entering and ringing the bell on the counter.<p>

"I'm with a patient," he calls back. "Please take a seat and I'll be with you shortly." Stiles rolls his eyes, but does as instructed. He reads an article in one of the magazines about how dogs seem to have various kinds of ESP. He's just finishing a section on canine-ghost interactions when Deaton rounds the corner. "What can I help you with, Stiles?"

"What is this?" Stiles demands, flopping the bundle down on the counter.

"Well," Deaton says, looking pensive. "It appears to be a leather pouch of some sort. May I?" He gestures to the strips tying it sealed. Stiles nods and the not-just-a-vet makes quick work of opening the bundle. He looks up, then back at the contents and then settles a possibly concerned gaze on the teen in front of him. "Where did you get this?" he asks solemnly and with a grave urgency to his voice.

"I thought... You didn't put it on my windowsill?" Stiles asks disbelievingly.

"No," Deaton replies quickly. He glances around the room. Moving with clear direction, the man flips the sign and the lock on the door and beckons Stiles toward the back of the shop. "Circumstances require that we proceed ahead of schedule."

"What?" Stiles questions as he follows. Deaton lays the bundle on an empty metal examination table. Quickly retrieving a book from behind a bunch of vet supplies in a cabinet, he opens it to a page and lines it up with the scrap of paper Stiles thought looked like a grocery list. "They match," Stiles breathes.

"Yes," Deaton confirms. "It's ancient Ogham script. It's what the Druids and other practitioners used long ago."

"So..." Stiles draws out. "What? There's another druid in Beacon Hills who wants to teach me magic? That doesn't necessarily sound like a bad thing to me."

Deaton sighs. "No, Stiles. Druids are peaceful and benevolent. That's not what concerns me. I think we probably have a coven in town and their looking to recruit."

"Hold on," Stiles waves, surprised by Deaton's being so forthcoming. "You're saying there's a coven of... of... of what?"

"Witches," Deaton supplies.

"Okay," Stiles nods. "There's a coven of witches. And they want to recruit... Me?"

"Yes."

"Why would they want me?" Stiles interrogates. "I can barely do the mountain ash spells."

"For now," Deaton says. "But covens are like werewolf packs. The more members there are, the stronger each individual, and especially the leader, becomes."

"Okay," Stiles says, nodding and rubbing his hands together. "So, you're going to actually teach me now so I can fight these witches?" he asks hopefully.

"No," Deaton deadpans.

"What?!" Stiles shouts, and dogs start barking in their cages so he lowers his voice when he continues. "But you said we were going to 'proceed ahead of schedule'?"

"Yes. And I told you about Ogham script."

Stiles rubs his temples in exasperation. "That's like... Nothing! What am I even supposed to do with that?"

"Call Derek," Deaton says calmly.

"_What_?" Stiles head is spinning. He as so sure that Deaton was suddenly just going to start telling things to him straight and stop being so damn enigmatic, but then he flips the switch and he's back to speaking in riddles.

"You need to warn him about the coven so the pack can be prepared," Deaton explains calmly. He wraps the leather bundle up but takes the book with the translations back to his cupboard. "Now, you need to leave. I have patients to tend to."

"Wha- Jus- Wai- Guh!" Stiles throws his arms up, slams them on the metal table, grabs his bundle and huffs out of the vet's office.

* * *

><p>He picks up halfway through the first ring. "Stiles," Derek says roughly over the connection. "What's wrong?"<p>

"Calm down, Derek," he says in his best 'you're being a weird idiot' voice. And then he puts on his best 'not a big deal' voice to say, "There's just a coven of witches in town, nbd."

Derek sighs in irritation. "Call the others. Get here. Now."

"Aye-aye, were-cap," Stiles obeys and hangs up to the pleasant sound of snarling.

* * *

><p>"So... Witches are a thing?" Kira asks.<p>

"Apparently," Stiles shrugs.

"And they want to recruit _you_?" Jackson sneers.

"Hey! I'm totally desirable!" Stiles retorts.

"I can think of someone who'd agree with that," Erica comments, earning sharp looks from the other werewolves and confusion from Stiles.

"Enough," Derek growls and everyone hushes. "There's ten of us and we'll need to stay in groups as much as possible."

"Well, that's fine for us," Scott says, "we're all in school together. But what about you?"

"I'll be fine," Derek contends. "Werewolves can't cast magic and they're still recruiting. I'm mostly concerned about Stiles. As well as Lydia, Allison, and Kira."

"Wait, what?" Kira chimes.

"Kitsune can use magic. Not as much as most witches, but you'd probably still be a good addition to their coven. Did your mom not tell you?" Derek asks dubiously.

"Uh, no..." she replies softly. Scott pulls her into his side a little more to comfort her.

"So," Derek continues, "stay close together at school and we'll stay in pairs at night."

"I don't think that's much of an issue," Lydia laughs softly as she gestures to the circle of teens that are mostly already paired off. With one exception.

"Wait," Stiles says, looking around and coming to a certain conclusion. "Ah, come on," he sighs to the ceiling. "What did I do?" he asks the invisible deity causing his endless torture.


	7. Chapter 7

"Alright," Stiles starts as he enters his room. "Dad's got a late shift tonight so he won't be home until 2:30 and he won't be up until I'm gone for school." Derek's sitting shirtless and barefoot on his bed reading a book. "What are you doing?" he asks sourly.

"Getting ready for bed," Derek says like maybe Stiles has gone blind and can't see what's obviously happening. Which, in a way, he sort of has.

"Uh, yeah, except," Stiles waves a hand to the lounging werewolf, "that's _my_ bed."

"Where did you expect me to sleep?" Derek asks rhetorically.

"On the _floor_," Stiles gestures expressively to the sleeping bag lying there.

"No," Derek says, returning to his book.

"Uh..." Stiles sighs. "'No'? That's not really an option for you here. My house, my _bed_, my rules." Derek flashes his red eyes, like that actually affects Stiles. Well, at least not in the Alpha 'obey me' sense. And definitely not in any way he'll even admit to himself. "Should I call Scott?" Stiles threatens.

Derek looks at him like 'really?' And then shrugs. "If you want."

"Fine," Stiles huffs, whipping out his phone and pressing speed dial. "Scott," he starts.

"Stiles?" the tinny voice comes over the speakers and Stiles knows Derek can hear without it being on speaker. "What is it? Witches?" he asks frantically.

"No," Stiles calms. "Just... Derek is trying to Alpha eye his way into my bed." The sourwolf's jaw clenches.

"What?!" Scott asks incredulously. Derek flinches a little at the loud question.

"I think he should sleep on the floor. This is my house, I should not have to sleep on the floor."

"Oh, god, Stiles," Scott says, calming down. "That's why you're calling me? Just go to bed."

"But-" Stiles tries to retort but he's cut off by the call ending. Derek grins victoriously and keeps reading. "I'm not sleeping on the floor," Stiles states matter-of-factly.

"Alright," Derek shrugs. Stiles huffs and climbs under the sheets on the side of the bed Derek's fat werewolf ass isn't crushing.

"I hate you," Stiles sighs without much venom as he nearly hangs off the bed.

"Alright," Derek shrugs again.

Stiles throws the covers off himself and gets up to turn off the light. He finds his way back over to the bed and gets back under the covers. "Scoot over, fatass," he says as he pushes his butt against Derek's thigh in an attempt to move him. Derek grumbles and rolls to his side as he moves closer to the other edge of the bed. He throws one arm over Stiles as so they fit comfortably on the bed. The teen shoots straight up. "We are _not_ spooning."

"Calm down," Derek rebukes. "Your bed won't fit us if we aren't at least pretty close together."

"Well, that's not my fault," Stiles huffs out. After a beat, he concedes. "Fine, but I'm not little spoon."

"Whatever," Derek rolls his eyes and body simultaneously. Stiles wraps an arm around his waist and presses his face firmly into Derek's warm back. Stiles keeps breathing in and out really hard, not totally sure how he feels about the whole situation. He can practically feel Derek's heartbeat picking up with the anger he's going to use to rip out his throat, so Stiles makes an effort to calm down and soon enough he's asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey," he coos. "Hey, Stiles." Derek shakes the teen's shoulder softly as he leans over the bed. Stiles opens one grumpy eye to ridicule his waker and then grunts and closes it again. "Fine," Derek shrugs. "But you've only got twenty-five minutes to get to school."

Stiles does his standard leap out of bed move and throws his pajamas off. "You mind?" he asks pointedly at Derek as he realizes he's got company and covers his pale, white, exposed body.

"Not at all," Derek grins bemused but still turns around as he shakes his head. Stiles throws on some jeans and socks, a witty t-shirt and a flannel. He grabs his backpack and runs out of the room, stage-whispering, "You can let yourself out," as he goes.

* * *

><p>The Jeep slams to a halt in the school parking lot as the five minute warning bell rings. Scott spots him from the steps where the pack is waiting for him. He waves Stiles over hurriedly, so the non-wolf teen hops out and starts jogging up to them. Of course, he doesn't see the petite blonde girl in the bright white summer dress that walks across his path until it's too late. An explosion of papers and various school supplies ensues.<p>

"Oh my god," Stiles sighs. "I'm so sorry," he apologizes as he leans down to pick up the papers they both dropped.

"Oh, you're fine," the girl shrugs. "I probably should've been looking where I was going. New school and all," she chastises herself as she tucks her hair behind an ear and blushes.

"You're new?" he asks, looking up at her. He hadn't really seen her face until just now. She's pretty much exactly what he assumes an angel would look like. _Reminder to check bestiary for references of angels_. "Woah, what am I even saying?" Stiles says before she even has the chance to nod. "You are way too pretty for me to not have noticed you around here," he smiles goofily.

"Smooth," she giggles. Yeah, he's got skill.

"Mr. Stilinski," the principal says from the top of the steps. "I see you've already met our new student. I have a meeting. Would you show her around." It's not really a question, but Stiles nods anyways. Why would he not want to skip first period history to show the hot new girl around?

"So, uh," Stiles starts as suave as he can (which isn't very). "My name's Stiles. What's yours?"

She smiles warmly at him. "Your parents named you _Stiles Stilinski?_" she asks disbelievingly.

"Yep," Stiles lies. "Haunts me daily, ..." he trails off and gestures toward her with a questioning look.

"Triss," she supplies. "So..." she draws out, turning her head toward the school.

"Oh!" Stiles realizes. "Right. Showing you around. I am. I am showing you around!"

"Yes," she giggles cutely at his flusteration (ya know, flustered frustration?).

* * *

><p>"And this," Stiles gestures. "Is the cafeteria. Where they serve what they call 'meals,'" he air quotes. He's had her giggling pretty much the entire time. Even if it has been mostly <em>at<em> him and not _with_ him. Still a win.

"So," she asks shyly. "Could I, maybe, eat lunch with you today? I mean, I don't really have any friends here yet," she twists her foot in embarrassed anticipation.

"Sure," Stiles smiles. "But you've already got one friend here," he continues and she lights up at him.

To think: his day went from the _horrible_ werewolf spooning and late arrival at school to a cute girl actually _wanting_ to hang out with him. If it weren't for her small frame and really very churchy white dress, he'd swear she was a vampire or something._ Reminder to ask the pack of she might be a vampire at lunch._

"Cool," she says.

"Yeah," he replies.

They stand there for a minute and then she shifts a little toward him and-

The bell rings and students flood the hall. "We should probably get you to your second period class. Econ with Finstock, yeah?" She nods and takes his elbow so as not to get swept away by the flow of student bodies.

* * *

><p>"Hey, guys," Stiles interrupts quickly as he plops down at the pack table. "Big news," he says to the annoyed glares he's getting. "There's a new girl and she likes me and she's having lunch with us and I need you to smell her when she gets over here to make sure she's not some creature who wants to eat me," he informs at Mach 6, then turns to greet the approaching teen girl, "Triss!" He stands and offers her the seat next to him. "This is everyone. Everyone, Triss," he gestures. "She's new and we're making her feel welcome."<p>

"Hi, everybody," she waves politely, if a bit shy. Stiles looks at Scott questioningly, but the teen Alpha just shakes his head to signal he doesn't smell anything off.

"So," Lydia says, eyeing the girl's outfit, hair, and makeup. "Tell us about yourself and tell me where you shop."

"Uh," Triss starts. "I'm a transfer from Holy Oaks up in Oregon, and I shop at... Kohl's?"

"Hmm," Lydia judges. "Good enough," she approves as she returns to eating her apple and texting whoever it is that she is_ always_ texting.

The rest of the group starts introducing themselves and asking questions and Triss warms up to them quickly. Stiles inserts jokes and better introductions as necessary, and he barely realized that his hand moves to the back of her chair as he thinks.

He realizes that he might actually have a beautiful and funny girl to bring to homecoming. Sure, he said he didn't want to bring someone not in the supernatural loop, but he'll just be careful. She smiles at something Scott said and then meets Stiles eyes.

_Yeah, _he thinks_. I'll just be careful. What could go wrong?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Mwahaha! Stiles is in love with a girl! Fret not my fair readers: Sterek is always endgame.**

**Besides I've been droppin' hints like bombs.**


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